Anyways, please accept my apologies in advance for todays divergence from my normally scheduled tone of snark, criticism, social commentary, and general ennui for todays post.
Instead, please enjoy this discourse on my absolute favorite thing in the world.
Love.
More specifically, my love for my beautiful wife.
There are only a handful of things that Denise and I ever really argue about [the #1 topic for argument is where or what we want to eat at any given time--go figure]. Among that discrete list of topics is included where we actually met. The generalities are clear to both of us. We were both in the WIU marching band [I was, at that time, a dashing trombonist; she was a stunning flaggette]. It was after band and I, with a friend, went up to Denise, Robin, and Sarah to ask if they wanted to travel to NIU for an upcoming football game. What Denise and I argue about, though, isn't who said what, or when all this happened [it was early September 1999], we argue about what side of the street this all took place on.
Yes, dear reader, the side of the street.
It's important.
I can remember what she was wearing when we first kissed [a red t-shirt, green and red plaid pajama pants], what we did on our first "date" [watch Braveheart until like 330 in the morning], but neither one of us can convince the other what side of the street we were on [Denise contends that we had our conversation on the West side of Western Ave. in Macomb just off the practice field, I contend that the conversation was held on the East side of the street under a tree by Corbin Hall].
You may look at this argument and think to yourself that this is a triviality--which it absolutely is. It is an important triviality, damnit!
Is there a point to this strange story? Of course there is.
Twelve years. Twelve wonderful great, terrifying, happy years. We argue about two things. Sure, we have disagreements about money [who ,doesn't], two things though. Great.
For all the curmudgeonly insights I offer, all the people I don't care for, the things that I don't like I am a hopeless romantic. It's one of my dirty secrets. The greatest thing in life, in the universe, period is love. I'm sorry for crushing your delusional ideas about me.
Denise is the single greatest thing that has happened to me. Bar none. Period. She is the absolute Yin to my absolute Yang. My opposite, my equal, my moderator, and my motivator.
I am hopelessly devoted to her. Hopelessly.
Every couple has their "googy" thing; their unique inside joke or reference that only this couple will know. We have probably 3,721 different googy things. I'm not going to tell you about all of them--rather, I'm going to tell you one.
The story of the noble penguin.
Penguins, as they say, mate for life. Denise is my penguin. I am hers. It's that simple. I bet you thought it was something even more complicated or convoluted didn't you. It's simple.
The best day of my life, so far, was the day we got married. The day was absolutely perfect from the Queen entry music to the burgers we ate at the barge. Most importantly, though I married the one and only love of my life.
My penguin
My Denise.
I love you dearest, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.
We shall return to our regularly scheduled snark and misanthropy tomorrow. Until then, I shall quote the movie Moulin Rouge: "The greatest thing you'll ever know is just to love and be loved in return"
It truely is the greatest thing.
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